


Your Soul In The Palm of My Hand

by SocialBookWorm



Series: Until Death Do We Meet [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: All the AUs thrown into one story, Angst, Background Royality - Freeform, Banshee!Roman, Bittersweet Ending, Blood, Burning alive, Fae!Patton, Fantasy AU, It counts as a one shot so long as I don't add chapters right?, Knives, Liche!Logan, M/M, Moster AU, Reincarnation, Sorta Deamon AU, Soulmates AU, Suicidal Thoughts, slight body horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 15:39:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15866619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SocialBookWorm/pseuds/SocialBookWorm
Summary: Once upon a time, there was a Witch King. When his kingdom needed him most he fled into the night leaving it to burn without him, cursed with immortality for his cowardice and greed. They say that his familiar's eyes glow in the dark, and he is followed by a creature whose screams could bring even the largest foe to its knees. Some say that he flees from the enemies of his kingdom still. Others from himself. Few, a few select few, whisper that he searches. He searches for the one made to complete him.A Soulmate.





	Your Soul In The Palm of My Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Yooooooo HUGE THANKS to wisepuma23 and my-happy-little-bean for their help on this!! It sorta...grew outta control. My apologies to all who wanted a MTO update, it may be a while yet. For now have this "one shot" written for the Sanders Fic Exchange!

Everything smelled like smoke.

Logan pulled the cloak tighter around his shoulders, trying not to look away from the flames that rose below him.  Even with the hood he had hid his face under, the light still caught his eyes. All he wanted to do was throw himself down the cliff he stood on, back down to his kingdom. His fallen kingdom.

Gods, he had been such a fool.

And now his people were the ones who were paying for it.

The feel of magic in the air coated the back of his throat more than the smoke did, and Logan reached for the amulet at his chest. The warmth leached into his cold hands. He closed his eyes and ignored the rustling at his feet. There was nothing left of him here, and yet, Logan couldn’t get his feet to move.

“We’re going to die.”

Logan sighed, bending down to pick up the ferret at his feet. Dante blinked wide eyes at him, and repeated himself.

“We’re going to die, if you stay here.”

“I’m already dead,” Logan pointed out, helping the ferret to settle along his shoulders. Dante was a well known sight around the kingdom, and as likely to give them away as Logan’s face. “He can’t do more to me than he’s already done.”

“There’s your soulmate,” Dante pointed out. He shoved his nose into Logan’s neck. Logan took the hint and reached up to scratch at the ferret’s head and chin. Dante trilled in the back of his throat and snuggled even closer to him. “You’re cold now.”

“I’m dead,” Logan repeated. “This body exists through magic alone. It doesn’t produce heat.” He paused. “And soulmates are just a legend.”

“Nah,” Dante said, “They’re real. I’m just not supposed to tell you about them until you’re dead.”

Dante startled, giving a full body shudder against Logan's neck. His claws tightened their grip against his tunic and Logan sighed again.  
  
"I shouldn't be able to tell you that," Dante whispered. Logan blinked at the sheer panic that his tone conveyed, a dull surprise and worry slipped through Logan's numb despair. "You're really dead.” Dante laughed nervously, kneading his claws on Logan’s robes, falling into his habit of panicked rambling. “You're not just joking, or exaggerating. You do that all the time you know, make things _more_ than they are to impress people. Logan, _I thought you were being dramatic_."  
  
Logan tugged Dante off of his neck, cradling the shaking ferret to his chest. "As I told you, I am dead now. Well, to be truly accurate I am undead, but to become that I have to die first."  
  
"You can't be dead!" Dante wailed, "We were going to do so much more! You were going to take me to see a waterfall! You're not supposed to die; not when I love you and I'm supposed to protect you!"  
  
Logan stroked down Dante's back, digging his fingernails into what he knew was the ferret's favorite place along the shoulder blades. Logan watched in a trance as the flames finally reached the top of the castle, and he wondered if all his books would be lost in the fire as well.

Dante nuzzled closer to his chest. Logan finally broke eye contact with the destruction around them to look down at the ferret.  
  
"I love you too Dante, and we're still going to see a waterfall. Just not the one I was originally thinking of," Logan said calmly. "So calm down. I know you can be more rational than this."  
  
"You're DEAD. I think I _am_ calm, considering you _died_!"  
  
Dante stood up on Logan's arms, pressing his paws to Logan's chest. He whined softly in the back of his throat. Logan shifted him back down and ran his fingers through Dante's fur once more. He figured that Dante had been looking for a heartbeat, and was distressed when he couldn't find one.  
  
Logan balanced Dante on one arm before reaching up and tugging his amulet off with the other one. It pulsed in his palm as he brought it closer for Dante to look at. The ferret pressed his nose to the amulet; Logan shivered at the same time that Dante sneezed.

“It’s warm,” Dante whispered. “Like you used to be.”

"It is me," Logan said softly. Dante reached out and touched it gently with a paw. Logan closed his eyes before tugging the amulet out of Dante's reach and tucking it back under his robe.

"As long as it is intact, I'll still walk this earth; for however long it takes me to correct this."  
  
"It's a good thing Virgil isn't picky," Dante muttered. "I don't think many people would be happy with a soulmate who is dead."  
  
Logan rolled his eyes. "I don't-"  
  
Dante's ears suddenly perked up, and Logan froze. He fell silent, listening to the approaching footsteps.  
  
"We have to go," Logan whispered. He cast his burning kingdom one last glance before turning away and hurrying into the woods behind them. Dante crawled up his arm, ducking into the shadows of Logan's cloak as Logan broke into a run. His robe fluttered behind him, and Logan winced at the shouts that rose up.  
  
He didn't have much time to get to safety.

The thought sent a stab of guilt through his chest. He wasn't more important than any of his citizens, yet he was the one who got to flee the destruction and failed war. Yes, he had been the target of the magician's rage in the first place, but the hope that it would abate with Logan on the run was a desperate one.  
  
Logan reached up to stabilize Dante as he cast a spell under his breath, launching them both upwards. He landed unsteadily on a thicker tree branch. Dante's claws broke his skin as Logan wobbled before regaining his balance.  
  
Logan crouched down, watching with unnaturally bright eyes as the soldiers and mages rushed past his hiding spot. Logan could feel Dante's ears and nose twitch against his cheek as they waited with bated breath. Logan wished desperately that it hadn't come to this, but there was nothing he could do about it now except to keep moving forward.  
  
He would rebuild his kingdom with time.  
  
He had to.  
  
Dante hissed to let him know that the coast was clear, and Logan dropped gracefully from their hiding spot. He cast another spell to muffle his steps and took off at a run at an angle from the direction that the search party had gone. He couldn't go back, but he couldn't go completely forwards anymore either.  
  
So he would simply sidestep the issue.  
  
Logan tugged his hood up even higher, ducking his head as they approached one of the cobblestone paths that lead (to) away from the castle. He slowed to a walk, keeping a wary eye out as he turned towards the capital of the neighboring kingdom. Dante chittered a quiet sound that helped Logan relax.  
  
Dante would alert him to any danger approaching.  
  
"Logan," Dante hissed, as if hearing Logan's thoughts, "there's something up ahead. It smells like _him_ , but not. Weaker. _He's_ been here recently."  
  
Logan took a fortifying breath. He slowed his steps and brought his magic to the forefront, hands glowing with power, bright enough to been seen through his thick robes. He swept his eyes back and forth. It was likely that The Magician had left a minion or a summons about to catch Logan as he tried to flee.  
  
"There," Dante said, gesturing towards a lump in the ground.  
  
Logan narrowed his eyes at the sight. A fresh grave. It hadn't been there long enough for plants to start growing again, and it had been marked by a cross that looked ready to tip over at any moment. Logan thought it might have already if it were not for the strange red thing hanging around it.  
  
He crouched lower as he inched towards the grave. As he drew closer, he winced. The holy power of salt and iron itched at him, dragging across his skin like nails.  
  
"Logan?" Dante asked. Logan glanced over at the panic in his tone. Dante’s nose twitched and his head lifted in the air. Logan was fairly certain he couldn’t smell magic though it would be fascinating if Dante could. Simple panic then. "What's wrong? Is it cursed? We should go if it's cursed; please don't let it be cursed. You weren't supposed to die at all, let alone twice. That would be the worst-"  
  
Logan shushed him, staring at the set up around the grave. Dante hissed at him, claws digging into Logan’s robe and tugging at his skin. An unnamed cross, simple brown wood unlike the carefully done metal and glass ones from his castle, lined with salt and iron meant one thing.  
  
Whoever had buried this person thought they had been a witch. Logan knew that his kingdom had been one of the dwindling few who welcomed magic with open arms, but he hadn't thought it had gotten this bad.  
  
However, it didn't explain why _his_ power was still hanging around the site. Had he tried to raise the dead only to be rejected by the protective wards around the area?

He took another step forward, intent on investigating what the issue was, only to jerk back as the red mass shifted and moved.  
  
"Oh! Visitors! That's good! I was getting bored," the creature said happily. Logan blinked, dropping his hands from where they had come up defensively.  
  
"It's- it's a snake," Dante said, his head poking out from under Logan's hood. "If it's a familiar, where's its person?"  
  
Logan shook his head, laying a hand on Dante's head defensively. Dante shook it off, snapping at his fingers, and Logan breathed out heavily. Idiot, he thought fondly. Normally, Logan would be confident in letting Dante near a snake, ferrets did eat them occasionally after all. But _his_ magic was still hanging around and Logan didn't want to risk his closest friend.  
  
"It," the snake gave a series of broken hisses, and Logan blinked as he realized that it was a laugh. "That's a new one! Normally I get shrieks and gibberish! But if you're just going to stand there, it's going to get boring fast."  
  
"Where's your human?" Logan asked, eyes scanning the treeline.  
  
The snake raised its head even higher and Logan caught sight of the extra scales hooding each side of its head. A hooded cobra. Bright red. Likely poisonous. Logan didn't like what that said about who this person would get along with best.  
  
The snake bared its fangs in a facsimile of a smile.

"Oh oh oh oh!” Its fangs caught the light. “I'm _sitting_ on the best pun, but for the _life_ of me I can't figure out what it is!"  
  
"What," Dante said, and Logan was inclined to agree. They were missing something, Logan knew that much as the snake laughed again, almost falling off the cross as it did so.  
  
"Wait," Logan said, irritation growing in his chest. "Was- was that a _joke_?"

"One that you get for _dirt_ cheap!" The snake said cheerfully and Logan wondered if it was too late to turn around and turn himself in. Dante nipped his cheek. Logan flicked him gently because he wouldn't actually do something like that over a pun.  
  
"You're claiming that your human is the one that's been buried-"  
  
"Yuppero!"  
  
"-which is impossible because if they were dead, then you would have Moved On," Logan pointed out.  
  
"I mean, you're dead and I haven't Moved On," Dante grumbled. Logan flicked him again.  
  
"I don't know!" The snake replied. Its tail swung back and forth as its head bobbed, a steady rhythm that Logan couldn't help but follow. "He could be dead! He could be not! Whatever he is, it's exciting waiting to find out!"  
  
Logan and Dante stared at the snake for a long moment, before looking down at the grave. The fact that someone could be alive in it made the oppressive feeling in the air that much worse. Logan’s hand twitched with the need to grab at his amulet. Just in case. He could feel the magic pulse against his chest, something that added to the aura of the area.  
  
"We could leave him there," Dante suggested.  
  
Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, adjusting his glasses carefully. He sighed.

"No, no we can't. If you would get the salt line, Dante, we'll get the man out and see what's going on."  
  
"We really don't have to," Dante said, even as he scrambled down Logan's back and legs to reach the ground. He inched towards the line, grumbling under his breath the entire way. "Technically speaking, we don't have to do anything now. No duties, no responsibility. If some moron gets himself buried alive, it's not our problem. Maybe he's actually dead and all we're going to dig up is a rotting corpse."

"We'll just put him back if that's the case," Logan said idly. His eyes fixed on the snake rather than Dante. The constantly amused look on its face didn't make him feel all that safe in letting his friend wander closer alone. He held a ball of magic in his hands; just in case it decided that striking would be more amusing than watching them dig out its human play out.

Dante snickered, claws digging into the earth. Logan flinched back as the dirt went flying and glared at Dante, who flicked his paws a little bit more to further make the clumps fly towards Logan. Logan scowled down at him, kicking one back at Dante.

Dante chittered at him, before freezing.

"Oh wow," Dante said, paws working around in the dirt before pulling an iron cross out of the ground. Logan could feel the holy energy rolling off of it even from the distance that he was standing at. They must have found a priest to bless it, which made Logan wonder what exactly this man had done to warrant such an extreme gesture.

He glanced at the snake who waved its tail at him, and sort of understood.

Dante scurried back to him, winding up Logan's body and settling on his shoulders. "They really hated this guy. Should we really be doing this?"

"Probably not, but now I want to know," Logan muttered stepping forward carefully. He could cross the broken salt just fine, but he inched past the iron in the opening that Dante had made carefully.

He let out a breath as he stood on top of the grave. "You're going to have to move for this," Logan told the snake.  
  
"Oh of course!" The snake said. Logan scowled at the cheerful tone as the creature slid off and slithered away from the grave. "This I really have to see! You do your thing and I'll do mine!"  
  
Logan's eye twitched. Dante nuzzled into his neck, even as he snickered at Logan's pain. Logan took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he gathered his magic to the surface of his body. It didn't flow from his core like it had once, instead fueled by the amulet that he had made his center and life force. It rebounded in the spell wrapped around it before finally entering his body, giving Logan the strangest feeling as it did so; almost like he had swallowed wrong.

But his body rather liked it that way anyways.  
  
He gritted his teeth and drew the runes he needed in the air, pushing through the feeling. He closed his eyes, letting memories and training take over. All he needed to do was displace the earth around the body below them, usually not that deep when done by peasants anyways. He let out a slow breath and simply let go of the magic around him.  
  
The ground heaved beneath him, giving a quiet whoosh as the dirt disappeared and then reappeared a few feet to the right.  
  
Dante froze.  
  
Logan opened his eyes.  
  
Laying in the grave was a bedraggled man, curled up in the corner of the space that Logan had cleared out. His hands covered his hair and Logan felt his hands curl into fists. No matter what he had done, no one deserved being buried alive. Logan simply hoped that the man's death had been a quick one, no matter how much his teachings said that it wouldn't have been.  
  
The snake slithered forward and _laughed_.

"Hey, hey, hey Roman!" Logan blinked and entertained the thought that the familiar was so off, simply because this Roman was dead, and it had been driven mad by the grief. "I know it's a comfortable bed _rock_ but now's not the time to sleep!"  
  
"Look-" Dante started softly, only to be cut off by a soft groan. Logan surged forward without a thought. He clamped a hand around the man's arm and dragged him out of the grave, hating the way that his hand could reach almost all the way around Roman's thin arm.  
  
"Wha- What in the seven hells?" Roman croaked.  
  
"Hush!" Logan commanded. "I would like to ask you what happened, but there isn't time. If you're not dead then _he'll_ be able to feel the residual magic he cast on you echoing off mine. I have to go _now;_ whether you come with me or not is your choice, but you have to choose _now_ ."  
  
"Wait, you're- what- wait-"  
  
"There isn't _time_ ," Logan hissed, shaking Roman's arm and trying to ignore the way that the snake was easing itself up Roman's leg to settle on the man's shoulder. Just like Dante did with him. Logan glanced at the road and then Dante who shook his head. "We have to go if you're coming with me."  
  
Roman's eyes sharpened, one hand coming up to stroke his snake's head without a thought. The snake nuzzled into the gesture as Roman asked, "You're in trouble?"  
  
"All the time, gods can you use your head or not are you coming?" Logan hissed as Dante's head slowly rose. Dante's ears flickered, his whiskered twitching against Logan's cheek. Their time quickly dwindling the longer that Roman hesitated.  
  
Roman nodded a sharp ‘sure’ gesture. Logan didn't think twice, wrapping his hand around Roman's and breaking into a run. His cloak trailed behind him.

Roman's footsteps echoed with his, and the echo of armor and magic growing behind them.  
  
Everything lost to him, though maybe something new was gained.

Logan fled into the twilight.

* * *

  
Logan wondered, not for the first time, why he hadn't just left Roman in his grave. He gritted his teeth, swinging his hand up in a display of pure magic. The creature that Roman had challenged for a currently unknown reason roared. It stumbled back and Logan surged forward again, fire spell on the tip of his tongue.  
  
Dante hissed a warning, fur standing on end as Logan dove for the floor. The creature's large claws skimmed just above his head. Logan breathed heavily as he rolled out of the way, scrambling to his feet.  
  
"Run!" He bellowed.

“Jarl said it would be fine!” Roman insisted as Logan shoved at his back to get them moving. The snake in question did his version of a cackle and gods above Logan was going to strangle Jarl one of these days.

“FUCK JARL!” Dante screamed as the earth shuddered beneath them. The beast roared again. Dante’s claws bit into Logan’s skin through his robes. “STOP LISTENING TO HIM!”

Logan cast a sloppy spell, his magic sparking at the action. He threw his hand out, a wild wide action that knocked over the tree behind them with a shuddering creak. He cursed as Roman tripped over the roots that tore up the ground. Logan yanked at his arm, trying to get Roman to his feet before the creature caught up with them.

“Go!” Roman urged as the creature bore down on them.

“Gods above,” Logan snarled. He yanked Dante off of his shoulders. The ferret squirmed in his grasp, but Logan shoved his familiar at Roman. Roman took Dante with wide eyes. “You _owe_ me, you _imbecile_.”

“Logan!” Dante shouted, his voice echoing with Roman’s. Roman struggled to keep hold of Dante, the ferret twisting in his grasp. Logan pressed a hand to his head briefly, the best reassurance he could give with the time that they had. Dante’s head chased his hand as Logan pulled away.

Logan curled his hand around his amulet, feeling the magic pulse under his palm. He turned to face the creature. Gleaming eyes meet his own, and Logan whispered, “You don’t frighten me.”

The creature reared back, standing on its hind legs in fear and Logan wondered if it noticed the way his eyes had changed, eyes sinking away to leave only gaping holes. His magic pulsed under his skin, bucking wildly against the constraints he had kept it under. On the run for weeks, he had held back his magic in fear of being recognized; in fear of how people would react to what he truly looked like now.

“ _Ego me dimittere._ ” Logan’s voice echoed on the wind. His next step took him into the air. Logan could hear Roman’s sharp intake of breath behind him. The wind shrieked, in fear and triumph as Logan’s skin and flesh melted away. His robes hung loosely on his skeletal frame, and Logan yanked his amulet off his neck.

The chains that held it glinted in the light as the metal twisted and grew. Logan gripped the newly formed staff in his hand. His eyes, which had been empty without the illusion of eyes, flared to life with the sickly teal light of his magic.

“I aM tHe OnE yOu ShOuLd Be FrIgHtEnEd Of.” Logan’s voice layered over itself, each layer deeper than the next, an echoing unnatural sound. His tattered robes floated around him, waving as if a gentle breeze had just started and Logan rose into the air. He stared the creature down, eye level with its huge body. “YoU sHaLl NoT hArM tHaT wHiCh Is MiNe.”

The creature swung a paw at him. Logan brought his staff up in retaliation, the cutting spell springing to life before he could even say the words on his tongue.

“Eight lifetimes!” Roman screamed behind Logan as the spell sliced neatly through the paw. It fell to the ground and Logan surge past the bleeding limb. His staff brightened and he swung it again, fire bursting from the tip. The creature roared, staggering back from the flames, batting at its face with its remaining limb.

Logan hissed, a dark ugly sound. He pointed one last time and creature buckled under the pain curse that Logan cast. Dirt flew as it thrashed against the ground. Blood splattered against the trees. Logan slowly returned to the ground as the creature’s movements slowed, and then finally, stilled.

Logan turned back to the others, and tried not to wince at the pale look on Roman’s face. Dante finally slipped from the stunned man’s grip, dropping to the forest floor. Dante raced forward, stopping just in front of Logan.

“Logan?” he asked quietly.

“DaNtE,” Logan returned with an incline of his head. He bent down, bones running through Dante’s raised fur. He smoothed it out before cupping his familiar carefully and bringing Dante up to his chest. Dante wiggled in his hold, seeking a comfortable position now that Logan had lost all of his padding. Logan straightened and glanced up.

“RoMaN,” Logan said hesitantly.

Roman opened his mouth, then slammed it shut. The red cobra coiled around his body shifted. Jarl’s head peaked over Roman’s shoulder and the cobra hissed. “See? I said it would be fine!”

Roman groaned, burying his head in his hands. “This isn’t fine! Logan’s turned into a monstrous thing, we almost died; and, worst of all,” Roman wailed, waving his hands through the air, “my clothes will be stained! Forever!”

“He needs better priorities,” Dante muttered.

“But we didn’t die!” Jarl said, his entire body slithering around Roman’s. “And wasn’t that fun! It was exciting! And new! I say we do it again! No more boring, just walking around for us! Adventures every day!”

Logan clutched Dante closer to his chest, averting his eyes from Roman’s gaze. He didn’t regret the choice he had made for his kingdom, only that it hadn’t been enough. He hadn’t done it in time. Logan told himself that he didn’t care if Roman hated him now. He would be able to deal with it if Roman was disgusted or terrified.  
  
"I dOn'T lIkE yOu," Logan hissed at Jarl and the snake hiss-laughed again. It was easier to focus on the familiar rather than Roman; Roman who spoke confidently in the light of morning but whispered his fears to Logan across a dying fire at night. Logan wondered if Roman would still be willing to drag him across a town square to dance with a lonely girl, laughing at Logan’s face the entire time.  
  
Logan didn't want to know what Roman's black and white views thought of a king who ran from his people, who turned himself into a monstrous creature that needed to kill simply to survive.  
  
He didn't want to lose Roman’s bold laughter and the easy way that Roman threw an arm over his shoulder. He wanted to treasure the myths and stories that slipped from Roman's lips with the same ease that Jarl slide over Roman's body. Logan didn't want to lose the man who had quickly become his friend in the weeks that he had known him.

A friend was a foreign concept to Logan. All he had ever had was Dante. The courts of his kingdom weren’t the most cutthroat but there were never true friends for a prince, let alone a king. There was too much risk of influence and that wasn’t even starting on the imbalance of power. Roman was the first to slide past Logan’s walls and settle in next to his heart.  
  
Logan ran his bony hand through Dante's fur. Logan had long hated the compulsive action of comfort that his tutors had never managed to train out of him; it was a sign of weakness for all that he helped relax him. Dante shivered at the chill but pressed closer to Logan's ribs regardless.  
  
Logan's heart ached for the man Dante represented; the man who would accept him no matter what he looked like; who protected those who he cared about; who had a tongue full of dry wit and lopsided smiles. Logan wanted Virgil. Soulmate or not, if he was like anything like Virgil, Logan wanted to meet him.  
  
Logan just hoped that Virgil would love him just as much. The form that his soul had taken plagued Logan through the night, leaving him wondering what it acted like; what it looked like after he had twisted his very being so unnaturally.  
  
A shuffle in front of him brought Logan's thoughts back to the present. Fire-lit eyes snapped to Roman, who dropped into a kneel and bowed his head. Logan felt his non-existent stomach churn. Jarl stared at him with unnaturally bright golden eyes.  
  
"Your Majesty," Roman intoned. Logan had a lifetime of good men kneeling in front of him, but there was something electric in the air now. He knew that Roman had figured out the basics of his situation: Logan had once been in power and he was now on the run. But Logan had never managed to unstick the full explanation from his throat.  
  
He had cast a few decursing spells in an attempt to make it easier. Dante had laughed at him.  
  
"Twice now you have saved my life," Roman continued, and Logan fought the urge to shove him back onto his feet. Roman out of everyone should owe him nothing. Logan didn't want another servant, not after having the taste of another friend like Dante.  
  
"I find myself unable to pay the debt owed unto you.  So I offer to you what I can, little though it may be. I pledge to you my support, my stories, and my warnings. Until you find the one destined to complete you, please allow me the honor of bestowing you my companionship until the time that you are no longer in need of it."  
  
Logan stared at Roman for a long moment. He pulled his magic back, wrapping his old construction of a body around him. Flesh grew from his bones, muscles wrapping around his bones in a feeling like a hug that was a shade too light before tightening uncomfortably. Heat surrounded him as skin and muscles covered him, the ability to blink once more catching him off guard. The returned weight of his tongue sat heavy in his mouth, and Logan couldn’t help running it over his teeth for the sensation of it.

Dante snuggled back into his filled out body, making a noise of contentment at the new position. Fat was more comfortable then bone to lean against. Not that it should matter to Dante. Spoiled brat.  
  
"RoMan-" Logan's voice still echoed slightly, and he cleared his throat until he sounded normal once more. "Roman. I am a king no longer. My people are lost, hanging on only by a thin thread of hope. I need not a knight nor a servant in these trying times. But-"  
  
Logan watched Roman's head whip up from his humble bend. A smirk crawled up Logan's lips and he held a hand out for the other man to take. "I find myself in desperate need of a friend. If you would welcome a coward and a monster as one."  
  
"No," Roman said as he took Logan's hand. Logan hauled him to his feet, trying to ignore his hurt at Roman's words. Of course, no one would want- "But I would welcome _you_."

Logan’s head snapped back to Roman’s grinning face. He searched Roman’s face for any sign of deception, and his eyes prickled uncomfortably when he found none. He pulled his hand back from Roman and swiped at them, muttering about dirt in his eye.

“Of course it is,” Roman teased, slinging an arm around Logan’s shoulder. Logan rolled his shoulder but didn’t make any other moves to make Roman let him go. If anyone asked, he would deny leaning into the hold to his dying breath. He had an image to uphold after all, and Roman ruined every part of it.  
  
"Awwww, you're both sappy morons," Dante cooed, whiskers twitching in amusement.  
  
"And you're only good as a rug," Logan shot back.

"You'd be lost without me," Dante agreed, squirming in Logan's hold. The warmth of fond amusement flooded Logan’s chest. Dante twisted and climbed his way up Logan's arm to his usual place along Logan's shoulders. "Speaking of which, we're only a few days ride from where I sense Virgil, just south of here.”  
  
“Which is great, if we could ride,” Logan said dryly, even as his chest warmed at the thought. He ignored the guilt that sat low in the delight. He had a kingdom he needed to worry about and here he was looking for his soulmate. It wasn't like Virgil would change anything except Logan's own morale. "We didn't exactly flee with horses."  
  
"Bah!" Roman shouted, hooking an arm around Logan's shoulder. "Nothing will stand in the way of true love! We shall simply walk the distance! Imagine the utter romance! You, battered and exhausted-"  
  
"Or we could avoid getting into more fights," Logan muttered under his breath as Roman tugged him forward.  
  
"-will collapse into his arms!" Roman continued, speaking over Logan’s mutter with a dreamy sigh. "He'll look deep into your eyes and know that it's you! The one that he's destined for! Perhaps he'll even ask if he knows you! Oooooh, how adorable would that be!"  
  
"Looking at you with _paw_ itively _soul_ ful eyes," Jarl added. Logan winced at the puns, glaring off into the middle distance. "Course that's if you can get there in time!"  
  
Silence fell like a blacksmith's hammer.  
  
"What?" Roman blinked at his familiar. "What do you mean? It's not like Logan's got a time limit to meet this Virgil."  
  
"Oh well! There were soldiers that looked a lot like the ones we've been avoiding heading in that direction! It could be a coincidence. It could be deliberate! It's exciting!" Jarl said cheerfully.  
  
Logan felt his heart stop. He shouldn't put so much weight on a man he hadn't met yet. Virgil was a stranger and nothing more, no matter how much Dante insisted that they were made for each other. Even if the legends of soulmates was real, only Dante and Virgil's familiar would know he was intended for Logan. The fear that Virgil would be singled out was irrational and childish.  
  
Logan still wanted to strangle Jarl for planting it in his head.  
  
"Which direction exactly?" Logan pressed, leaning forward to face Jarl better. "And how quickly?"  
  
Jarl shifted on Roman's shoulder. Jarl hung off Roman like a sash on most days, but now he shifted as more of a scarf, eyeing Logan with bright eyes. The damn snake did everything for his own amusement and Logan would have _words_ with Roman's soulmate when they met.  
  
Roman deserved better.  
  
"Well they certainly weren't running their _souths_ off to give me information," Jarl pointed out. "They followed the southern path as you humans do. They had horses! I wanna jingle jangle like they did. We should pick up bells at the next village Roman."

“Oooooh,” Roman agreed. “Bells would be nice-” Logan glared at Roman, urgency beating at his chest. “-but later!” Roman declared. He darted his eyes to Logan and he grinned. “We have a fair prince to save first!”

“Let us embark on a mighty quest!” Jarl cheered. Logan pinched the bridge of his nose and wondered if it was too late to take back the offer of friendship. He was travelling with morons, idiots, the worst of the worst-

“Come Logan!” Roman cheered, snagging Logan’s wrist and dragging him forward. Dante yelped at the sudden movement. Logan’s free hand snapped up to help balance his familiar. His lips curled up into a helplessly fond smile as he watched Roman’s back. Logan ducked his head and felt Dante’s fur against the back of his neck.

Guilt from what happened to his kingdom still dug through his heart, but with Dante shooting back a comment about how Virgil wasn’t a prince and Roman’s laughter, it didn’t feel so bad. It may be selfish of him, but Logan didn’t think the two, well, three with Jarl, would let him fall into grief. Not so long as they were there to help.

“He’s marrying Logan!” Roman protested. “That would make him a prince!”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Logan shot back, feeling his smile break into a full grin. “He has to agree to marry me first, and even then I’m no longer a king.”

“Bah!” Roman waved his hand and Logan closed his eyes, letting Roman’s voice wash over him as Roman went on a rant about how Logan still held the bearing of a leader and what that meant. Logan’s footsteps didn’t waver, trusting Roman to lead him where he needed to go. Dante shifted, a warm weight on his shoulders.

“Moron,” Logan interrupted fondly, and laughed as Roman’s rant broke off into an affronted noise.

Virgil or no Virgil, Logan was content with what he had.

* * *

They traveled quickly. Roman pushed the pace even more than Logan did, charging ahead through the woods as if it were possible to outrun men on horses. Logan sighed, tugging his tattered robes around his shoulders. He wanted to be disgusted at the state of his clothes, the once silken fabric now rough to the touch. It was hard to care when Roman had never had anything that nice and didn't know anything different.  
  
Dried leaves crackled as Logan walked. Dante dozed off on his shoulders and Logan wondered if it was because he was tired or if his familiar was simply bored. Dante had preferred to sleep through all of Logan's combat classes after all, citing that watching Logan swinging a stupid sharpened stick around wasn't going to help him at all.  
  
Logan had personally agreed, but a king couldn't _just_ know magic and be respected by the people.  
  
Roman's voice boomed out ahead of him, and Logan picked up his pace to keep up with his friend. He watched Roman's hands sweep through the air as he explained the glory of knights to Jarl for what had to be the dozenth time. Logan wondered if Roman would ever realize that Jarl would never understand. Logan just didn't know if it was because of stupidity or a lack of moral understanding.  
  
"They lived exciting lives!" Roman said. "You would have enjoyed it, my scaly friend! They don't do the same thing twice!"  
  
Jarl's head perked up at those words. "Did any of them ever die?"  
  
Logan narrowed his eyes as a feeling of foreboding ran down his spine. Logan hadn't forgotten the casual way Jarl had dismissed Roman's death when they first met. There was an utter disregard for life that set Logan on edge. He didn't like Jarl, and barely trusted him. If Dante had to eat him one day, Logan would only mourn for the way Roman would be heartbroken.  
  
"Some of them," Roman said, and Logan hated that there wasn't even a touch of wariness in his voice. Roman took Jarl at face value and it drove Logan up the _wall_ . "But the best of them didn't! They persevered through endless obstacles to reach the end of their Quests!"  
  
"You should tell him," Dante murmured in his ear and Logan shook his head. The image of knights dying with a simple sweep of _his_ hand skirted across his eyelid before Logan shook his head of it. Knights died all the time; they weren't all the noble creatures that Roman envisioned.  
  
Logan watched Roman's eyes light up as he talked and shook his head again.  
  
"Let him dream," he whispered to Dante. The truth would come out one day, but Logan didn't mind the hope and happiness that Roman's ignorance brought with him. He was a good man; if Logan still had the power, he would have knighted Roman already. "He won't have that forever."  
  
Dante shifted on his shoulder and Logan could feel the cloth twist at the action. Fur brushed against his cheek, and Dante's stare felt heavy on the side of his face.

"Waiting longer will only hurt him more," Dante replied, annoyance twitching his whiskers. "Something will happen and it won't be a simple clean break like if you told him."  
  
"Later," Logan hissed. He pulled up short, aware of the silence in front of them. He glanced up to meet Roman's staring back at him.

Logan blinked slowly, trying to keep the guilt and shame from the expression on his face. He knew that Dante would be making a similar expression on his shoulder; the same one they had made when younger and trying to avoid getting in trouble.

"Can I assist you, Roman?"

Roman narrowed his eyes. Jarl looked between the two of them. His tail swished back and forth, and Logan wondered if Roman could feel it against the small of his back before shaking the thought loose.

"Tell me what?" Roman asked. Logan winced mentally at the curious open tone of the question, and the guilt about his lie sat even heavier on his chest. Roman trusted easily, a little too easily in Logan’s opinion. It was going to get him killed one day, and Logan just hoped that it wouldn’t be because of a connection to Logan’s past.

"What?" Logan echoed purposefully. Denial was more suspicious than confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Logan's eyes flickered to Jarl, and the snake swayed dangerously for a moment before stilling. Logan blinked again, honest this time. He almost thought that Jarl was mad at him from the unnatural stillness and the almost dark look in his golden eyes, but that didn't make any sense. Jarl would believe all of Roman's fanciful, silly stories, so surely he would buy Logan's lie.

"I don't know!" Roman said, his body moving to stomp his foot before he stopped himself. Logan felt his lips quirk up at the action before he smothered it with a look of confusion.

"Whatever you and Dante were talking about!" Roman whined. "I want to know!"

"I sincerely don't know what you're talking about Roman," Logan said, letting an apology leak into his tone. If it was an apology for lying rather than not knowing, then that was for him to know.

Roman narrowed his eyes.

"Fine!" He snapped. "I'll figure it out one day!"

He pointed at Logan angrily before whirling on his heels and stomping off. Jarl twisted on Roman's shoulders, settling so that he could watch them as Logan hesitantly started to follow once more.

They were still a few days walk away from where Dante sensed Virgil, but it was better than the fortnight that Logan had predicted. He stared back at Jarl, trying to figure out why his stare unnerved him so much. It felt like one of his tutors had caught him with his hand some place it shouldn't be and was simply waiting for him to confess.

Only this...shame was one that Logan planned to take to his grave with him. He shoved away the thought that he was already dead and Roman deserved the truth.

Logan ducked under one of the lower hanging branches, ignoring the way that his gut squirmed in shame. He was- had been a king. He had to make hard choices and this was simply another one.

One for the best of all involved.

He closed his eyes. _Labrhas forgive me_ , he thought with another twist of guilt in his stomach. Dante nipped at his ear and Logan opened his eyes.

He swerved violently to avoid a tree he had been heading straight for, cursing the gods under his breath as he stumbled. He braced himself against a tree to his right, digging his fingernails into the rough bark. It hadn't even been a turn of the moon and he was already falling apart.

How was he going to survive centuries?

"Logan?" Roman called back, laughter trickling into his tone. Logan's head snapped up to glare at him, eyes flickering with magic. "Are you- are you alright?"

Roman stuffed a fist into his mouth to hold back giggles. Logan's eyes narrowed. If he caught wind of a single sound from that blasted mouth, he was going to string Roman up by his toes and leave him for the wolves. He would not be disrespected like this.

"I'm fine," he said coolly, smoothing down his clothes. "We should keep moving."

"Are you sure?" Roman asked. Logan ground his teeth at the higher, amused pitch. Maybe stringing up by the toes was too kind. He could always use Roman's hair. "Because you seem a little...lost?"

"Clumsy?" Jarl suggested with glee.

"Moronic?" Dante added. Logan snarled at them all, hands twitching to yank Dante off his shoulder. Not that he would follow through, but the thought was a satisfying one. Damn brat, damned moron, damned stupid _gods-cursed_ snake.

"I don't know why I put up with you all," he said flatly. He strode forward, robe brushing against bark as he stalked forward. He stalked past Roman without a glance. Roman giggled at first and, before doubling over in laughter. Logan's shoulders twitched at the sound. His hands curled into fists. He should have left Roman in that grave, should have went on alone-

Dante snickered in his ear.

"Traitor," Logan hissed, rolling his shoulders. Dante wobbled dangerously at the action and Logan winced internally at the small ripping sound. Dante's claws dug into his skin as his familiar fought for balance.

"Bastard," Dante shot back, sounding way too pleased with himself. Or at least partly.

Logan glanced over at Dante. There was a darker, more nervous note in Dante's voice. His ferret's nose twitched wildly, whiskered quivering as Dante's ears started to flick back and forth.

"Dante?" Logan asked softly. "Is something wrong?"

Dante turned wide eyes to him. "You don't smell the smoke?"

Logan froze. He turned his head to face Dante fully. A dangerous sort of fear twitched in the back of his mind. Something was coming. They had to be prepared. "Which direction?"

"Every direction," Dante whispered. Logan lurched, whirling to face Roman only to be faced with another surprise.

Logan stared at the hands clamped over Roman's mouth. Roman shook his head, taking a few steps back, hands turning white as he tried to hold back whatever was slipping from his mouth. Logan took a step forward and Roman's whole body shook.

"Roman we need to-"

"Cover your ears!" Jarl suggested cheerfully. Logan hesitated for a split second.

The first second of the wail that came from Roman's mouth had Logan doubling over in pain. Logan clamped his hands over his ears, and all that achieved was helping him feel less like blood was going to start trickling from them at any moment. His heart roared in his cupped hands; Dante matching the beat as he writhed on Logan's lap.

The rough feel of his clothes and the rustling of the leaves disappeared as Roman's voice rose from a wail to a scream. It dug through Logan's emotions and drew gouges through his fear and grief response. Logan trembled. He felt tears slip from the corner of his eyes.

The sound seemed to last forever, and yet only a moment. Logan sat down, and realized that he didn't know when it had ended; the ringing in his ears drowned out all other noise. He squeezed his eyes shut. Hands brushed against his shoulders and Logan jolted back, one arm reaching down to take Dante with him out of instinct.

He blinked rapidly, staring at Roman's devastated face in incomprehension until his heart started to slow from its rapid pace. Roman's mouth moved in words that Logan couldn't hear, and his hands were held up in surrender.

Logan licked his dry lips, and croaked out, "I knew you had a mouth on you."

Jarl slipped off of Roman's shoulder, convulsing on the ground. Logan cursed mentally, not meaning for it to have been a joke. Gods above, that explained a lot about Roman to be honest, even if it didn't explain _how_ he had come to be. Banshees were rare after all, and a normal peasant wouldn't have understood him at all, especially with most legends being female.

Logan's eyes flickered over Roman's face, and he struggled to tell if his comment had made things worse or helped Roman relax. He sighed and cuddled a shivering Dante closer to his chest. He held a hand out to Roman, scowling impatiently when Roman simply stared at it blankly.  
  
Logan wiggled his fingers emphatically until Roman's hand closed around his own. Logan could feel the trembling that came from both of them but ignored it to get to his feet with Roman's help.  
  
"A little warning next time," he said dryly, hoping that more banter would help relax Roman, "would be much appreciated."  
  
Logan ran a hand through Dante's fur. The ringing in his ears died down, and the continuing silence made him glance up in Roman's direction. Logan frowned at the sight of Roman looking down and away from him before bending down to pick up the still shaking Jarl. Logan hated the look on his face, and reached out to place a hesitant hand on Roman's shoulder.  
  
The way his friend flinched made him want to order an execution.  
  
"Roman," he said softly, "it's alright."  
  
Roman didn't look at him for a long, heart stopping moment before turning to look at him with a wide grin. "Of course it is! Though we need to _go,_ like _now_. Every time I-"  
  
Logan nodded sharply, cutting Roman off. "Of course, Banshee wails are a warning of death after all. Dante smelled fire. We need a safe exit."  
  
Dante whimpered in his arm. Logan ran a hand through his familiar's fur. Unlike normal, Dante didn't relax under the action, his fur bristling with every stroke of Logan's hand. Logan frowned down at him, concern growing with his resolve to get them all out safely. He still owed Dante that waterfall after all.  
  
"We'll get out of here," Logan said firmly, "All of us. Safe and sound. Maybe a burn or two depending on the strength-"  
  
"Something's happening," Dante whispered, and Logan felt a twinge of annoyance. He tried to shove it down with his concern, but even then he couldn't keep it all down. Fear was still roaring at the back of his mind and the only thing that kept him from full panic and the loss of magical control that would come with it was that they were all still safe at the moment.

"Of course something's wrong," Logan snapped. "Something's on fire and someone is going to die. If we get moving it _might_ not be us."

“Logan,” Roman said, and Logan glanced at him sharply from the horror in his tone. Roman pointed upward to the clear sky, and Logan's frustration grew. They were quickly losing invaluable time with these distractions. Why didn't they understand that?

“There’s nothing there,” he snapped, drawing Dante closer to himself. “Could we go now-”

“Logan!” Roman repeated and his eyes were as distressed as they were confused. “That's just it. There's _nothing there._ If there were fires, wouldn't there be smoke as well?”

Logan sucked in a sharp breath, head tilting up to look at the sky with clearer eyes. The dark blue of the twilight taunted him. No billow black of smoke, no acrid tang of burning plants. The wind rustled the leaves in the silence.

“But Dante-” Logan whispered. He glanced down at his familiar. Dante looked back up at him with glazed eyes and Logan felt an echo of the grief that had been wrapped up in Roman's wail. “Please. No.”

The words were filled with  a quiet desperation. The need to deny what his mind had already put together but his heart rejected. He clutched Dante tighter, shaking his head. Once, twice, and then desperately. Roman said something, but it sounded like he was speaking from the other side of a square, distant and unknowable.

Logan shoved his face into Dante's fur, a calming method he had thought he left behind in his childhood. He recoiled. The smell of burnt flesh and fur combined into an sharp acrid stench that hung in the back of his throat. Dante whimpered. Logan gagged.

The smell grew heavier, thickening in the air along with Logan’s panic. He dug down into his magic, yanking on it without restraint, frantically trying to recall all of the healing spells he had learned. Dante squirmed in his arms, whimpers giving way to cries and shouts.

Movement caught Logan's eye and Logan glared at the man ( _Roman_ , something in him whispered). He took a step back, curling defensively around his familiar.

“Stay back,” Logan hissed. “Come any closer and I'll kill you myself.”

The man froze, held his hands up, and took a step back. Logan immediately dismissed him from mind. He turned back to Dante, cooing softly. He murmured reassurances to his familiar, whispering a healing spell under his breath to Dante. He frowned when it took. The burnt skin knitting together only to bubble up into even more blisters.

Logan pressed another healing spell to Dante's skin, adding even more magic to it this time. He let it go at a constant drain; healing as fast as whatever was happening tore his familiar apart. He could taste blood on his tongue and Logan realized that he had bit down on it in his panic.

Dante panted in his arms, smaller chest heaving through the pain. His quiet cry broke and Logan thought- hoped- for a moment that the worst of it was over. His magic faltered for a heartbeat.

Dante _screamed_.

It wasn't like Roman's. It didn't cause Logan physical pain; didn't make his ears want to bleed. But it shattered him to his core. The agony tore at his control and Logan felt anything resembling sense wash away in the flood of anger and grief and panic, in the steady _not yet, not yet, not yet, I'm not_ **_ready_ ** -

The wind whipped through his hair and Logan bent over Dante, pumping more magic into his familiar. Dante's screams built in pitch and tone, climbing higher and higher into the tauntingly empty blue sky. Logan's flesh peeled away, but not in the smooth transformation from before.

He could feel the tear of muscle pulling away from bone, leaving jagged edges of pain that matched his heart. His own voice was a silent desperate plea, spell after spell falling from his lips. He would have prayed to the gods he had never truly believed in if he thought he could catch a breath between spells. His lungs disappeared, and with it, his need to breath.

Logan's words turned from a rush into an incomprehensible mess, as if they could speed up even more.

Dante clawed at him, cloth tearing and ripping as he writhed in Logan's arms. His chest heaved, and Logan wanted to burn the image of Dante's tears from his mind. There was no escape from the pain that dogged Dante's paws, and Logan was so focused on his spells that he almost missed the way that the screams started to die.

 _Nononononono_ -

Something creaked in the distance, and the ground shuddered underneath Logan's feet. Dante's struggles weakened, and Logan poured even more of himself into the ferret, desperately grasping for everything he knew.

"YoU cAn'T lEaVe Me," Logan sobbed, wishing he could feel tears on his cheeks. A monster who couldn't even cry for his best friend.

Dante pawed weakly at his chest before falling limp. Logan cradled him even closer, shoving his skull into the patchy fur and blistered skin. He was shaking, he realized distantly; trembling hard enough that his bones rattled against each other.

He tightened his grip on Dante's- on Dante, and felt the moment that it crumbled away. Logan stared in growing horror as Dante turned to dust in his hands, floating away on the wind. He stared at the place his best friend, his brother, his childhood companion-

_Dante snickered, nudging a cold, wet nose into Logan's cheek. Logan giggled. "We can't get caught or the cooks will kill us," Dante cautioned, and then giggled with Logan, "Operation steal the cookies starts now-"_

_Dante curled up on Logan's chest, waiting quietly until his tears dried before licking his cheek. "You're a hundred times better than those gods damned stupidfaces! You're going to show them all wrong-"_

_"I think it's stupid," Dante said bluntly, nosing at the notes in front of them. "But you're smarter than me so it might– I said might don't look at me like that Logan, just work-"_

_"You have me forever Logan. Don't you ever forget that."_

Logan screamed. The world turned to darkness.

* * *

"Logan!" Roman screamed, holding a hand up against the wind that sliced at his skin. He pressed his other hand against one of the trees still standing in the growing storm, trying to use it to haul himself even closer to his friend.

Logan stood in the center of the growing windstorm, a glowing skeletal form that screamed. Trees ripped away from the ground around them. Roman had to dive to the left, curling around Jarl as he rolled away from a larger tree that crashed back down to the ground. Dirt hit his back and Roman bit back a whimper.

Logan had always been the one in control. Roman could feel safe charging ahead because Logan would be calm and rational behind him, ready to pull him back when it got dangerous. Dante, with a quip in his tongue, would set off another round of banter and jokes while Jarl suggested another outlandish idea that Roman would latch on to.

The thought of their little group— of the familiar that Logan had just lost— pierced Roman to the core. He gripped Jarl a little tighter and was rewarded with Jarl wrapping around his wrist in the closest thing he had ever come to comfort.

Roman took a deep breath and stood from his curl, squinting his eyes against the wind and hair in his eyes. A knight wouldn't hesitate and so Roman wouldn't either.

"Logan!" Roman shouted again, feeling the word ripped away in the grief that smothered the air. It pressed down on Roman's chest. He fought for breath, fingernails digging into the bark behind him. He clawed at it, drawing himself to his feet and holding Jarl close before Jarl wound himself around Roman's waist and shoulders once more.

" _Wind_ some, lose some," Jarl joked, and the disregard was a familiar comfort. If Jarl wasn't scared then neither should Roman. There were scarier things out there than an out of control undead Logan. Liche? Was it Liche? Roman really should have listened closer when Logan was explaining things, but he had just gone on and on and on-

Roman shook his head. He needed to focus on Logan. Logan needed him.

"We could just wait for him to calm down," Jarl suggested, tongue flickering out to smell the air. Roman frowned at the suggestion.

"He needs help," Roman argued, heaving himself another step closer to Logan. He didn't know if the grief or the wind was worse, but either way Roman wanted it to stop. He wanted Logan to smirk at him while Dante snickered from his shoulder. "He wouldn't leave me if you died, and I won't do it either. Losing you would be-"

His throat locked up. Roman shoved the horrid image away, aware of the heavy gaze that Jarl leveled at him. The feel of scales shifting against his skin relaxed his shoulders and Roman gritted his teeth against another buffet of wind. The bright eyes that Jarl bore at him was why he had never listened to Logan and Dante's teasing. Jarl was smarter than he would ever let on.

Roman knew that.

He staggered, and whatever Jarl said was whipped away by Logan's roar. Roman's shoulder slammed against a tree, his feet slipping on the dirt. His frustration built at the lost distance, eyes locked on to Logan's shuddering form. Logan's arm swept out in a sharp movement and the earth under them rumbled.

Roman cried out as Logan's feet left the ground and the Liche flew forward, taking the wind with him but disappearing into the trees. Roman growled as he took to his feet one more time. He wouldn't give up. He _wouldn't_. Logan had saved him from that grave; from the pressing dark that had suffocated him. Turnabout was fair play.

"He'll be easy to track," Jarl pointed out. "He's leaving destruction everywhere he goes. Are we done laying low?"

Roman sighed, and reached up to scratch just behind Jarl's eye ridge. The cobra melted at the touch. Roman eyed the direction that Logan had taken off in; the same direction they had been headed before. Roman's heart sank, but he couldn't stop from opening his mouth.

"They say that familiars disappear when you don't need their guidance anymore. Most assume that it means you've reach maturity or passed some sort of trial. But if you're meant to guide us to our soulmates–" Roman swallowed, hating how small that his voice had gotten– "what does it really mean?"

Jarl nuzzled at his cheek.

"You never have to fear me dying," was all he said and Roman closed his eyes. It was a twisted comfort, knowing that whoever he was destined for was as stuck on this rock as he was, no matter what it meant for Logan.

Roman breathed in through his nose.

"Alright," he whispered. "Let's go get Logan then."

"We really don't have to," Jarl pointed out cheerfully as Roman broke into a jog after the torn up trees and slight breeze that still whispered through the air. Roman grinned at Jarl who adjusted, cool scales on skin. "We have all the freedom in the world now! He doesn't control us! No one does!"

Roman titled his head back and picked up his pace a little more. Freedom. One of the things that Jarl had always cared about, in contrast to his constant jokes about death. Roman didn't mind if his familiar was a little off. It had always reminded him of old stories and myths about curses and magic and creatures that no words could describe. Roman would trust Jarl with his life and heart.

Jarl was what had kept him free and laughing after all.

"Free," Roman agreed, "which means I'm free to be Logan's friend and help him. No one else can make that choice for me."

Jarl grinned, fangs gleaming in the setting sun. He hissed in agreement, or maybe pride, and the sound made Roman laugh despite the gravity of the situation. Maybe Jarl had been rubbing off on him more than he thought. Roman didn't care so long as he wasn't alone.

The thought reminded him of Logan, a deep pang of grief and Roman ran even faster. The tree line blurred around him; a painting that he would love to get down one day. He could feel the form he struggled so hard to make, to keep on fall away as he ran and ran. He couldn't keep up with Logan's magic as a simple human, so he reluctantly let it go.

His hair thinning and floating away in the wind. His skin tightening and wrinkling as age spots grew in places he had tried to keep flawless. Nails grew and sharpened until he had ragged almost claw like fingers. An ugly, raggedy creature. Someone who should have died but didn't.

Roman hated it.

But he wouldn't get sore. He wouldn't tire, he could run the whole distance that Logan needed him too.

Plus-

Jarl hummed in his ear. "Beautiful," he hissed, nuzzling against Roman’s cheek.

The one who mattered most would love him no matter what he looked like. Roman clung to that thought, dug claws into it so that he wouldn't throw his disguise back on. He wouldn't let a rolling stomach and fear of himself hold him back from this.

The farther they ran the more the destruction that Logan had left behind thinned. Roman scowled at the shrinking path. Spec couldn't even be helpful at a time like this. Seven hells, they might actually lose him.

"Roman," Jarl pointed out, head tilted to the sky. Roman looked up and felt what little blood was in his face flee.

A black billow of smoke was on the horizon; fading away, but as good as a compass point of where they needed to go. Roman tried not to think about Dante's screams and the smell of burning flesh. He doubted they'd go hunting after this.

"I bet it was beautiful," Jarl muttered and Roman rolled his eyes.

"You like fire too much," Roman said as he ran once more. His feet pounded against the dirt and leaves. The lack of heartbeat in his chest and ears made him want to stop and tear at his skin in search of it but Jarl shot him a look. Roman refrained, picking up his pace even more instead.

"Liesssss," Jarl hissed, amusement leaking into his tone. "You are just too scared of pain to see the beauty in it. Creation comes from destruction. Life from death. There is nothing to fear from the never ending cycle. You will die. And you will live. Why should I mourn the inevitable?"

"You really need to talk like this around Logan more," Roman said, ducking under a tree branch. "He'd respect you more."

Jarl's stare turned heavy and Roman's eyes flickered away from the path to look at his familiar.

"I don't talk to _liars_ ," Jarl spat out. "He is nothing more than a mask and empty words. He cannot see the truth as long as he hides from it. He is a fool, and I have no need for his respect."

"Wow Jarl," Roman muttered slowly as the smell of smoke hit his nose. "Tell me how you really feel."

Jarl slithered again, wrapping around his neck in a lose hold. Roman tilted his head up to give Jarl more room. The cool feeling never frightened Roman, and he came to a stop at the end of the tree line.

"You are _mine_ ," Jarl hissed, "You are _ours_ , and we have not left you to be claimed by others. He will worm his way into to something that is not his and when he does I will feel no regret in sink my fangs into his _neck_ lace."

Roman reached up to run a calming hand over Jarl's head and eyes. Something about the way Jarl spoke unnerved him, but he brushed it aside. Jarl was part of his soulmate; it was natural for him to be protective of him. They were meant for each other, and Logan and Roman _had_ clicked rather fast. It made sense for Jarl to be nervous about that.

"Yours," Roman comforted so he wouldn't have to think about the smell of burnt flesh in the air, and the way ash drifted from the sky. His eyes skimmed over blackened buildings, the smoke that still rose from a few of them, and lumped shapes that he didn't want to think about. He swallowed back bile at the thought of others having to witness what happened to Dante only with their own familiars. "Logan's just a friend, he'll never be more than that."

"Good," Jarl muttered, dark and vicious before loosening his hold on Roman's neck so he hung off of it rather than around it. His voice returned to it's usual cheer as he pointed out, "The _smoke_ n man is to your left in that case!"

Roman zeroed in on Logan's collapsed form, shoving Jarl's words out of his mind for now. Burned wood crunched under his feet as he ran forward. He hastily tugged his human form back on, hair regrowing fast enough that his scalp itched and nails falling off to land softly in piles of ash.

"Logan!" he cried and knelt down next to the skeletal form.

"What more can they take from me?" Logan's voice was a whisper on the wind and Roman's heart broke. "Haven't I lost enough?"

Roman squeezed his eyes shut and reached out. This wasn't something he could fix, no matter how badly he wanted too. He had never touched black magic and the thought of condemning yet another to a life like this made him gag. Then, there was the question of if Dante would even reform if Virgil was returned to life.

So Roman pulled Logan close and held the shuddering skeleton instead. Jarl wrapped around them both, looping around both their wrists and waists, a support and lock all at once. Roman bent over and curled around Logan to protect him from the world as best he could.

"You have us," he whispered back. "You'll always have us."

* * *

Virgil hugged his arms close to himself, watching the edge of town warily. Cavan fluttered above him, larger than all the other kid's familiars. He had always been big. Mother whispered about it when she thought Virgil wasn't listening, but Cavan told him about it. Cavan was always listening.

Cavan told him that most familiars were born at least close in age to the person they belonged to. Virgil was weird for having a fully grown owl, let alone one as large as Cavan. Virgil didn't care. Cavan scared off the bullies and whispered stories to him at night. Cavan kept him safe.

Virgil shifted in place, leaning against the house wall a little more. He closed his eyes and let the faint sounds of the bonfire behind him wash over him. He didn’t get why they celebrated the Fall of the Witch King each year; Mother said it had been almost fifty years since he had been overthrown.

He just- He dug his fingernails into the mud brick behind him. He couldn't stand it, couldn't look at the fire without his breath catching and Cavan hovering a little too closely at his back.

It was stupid. He shouldn't be afraid of fire. He was going to die because he was afraid of the one thing that kept them all alive. One day they'd all finally chase him out of town for being a witch— for Cavan being the way he was— and Virgil would die in the cold and dark because he couldn't light a _gods be damned_ fire.

His hands shook. Virgil pressed them to his face and slide down the wall to curl into a ball. The packed dirt chilled his legs, but Virgil didn't care. Better to be cold than to be laughed at. Feathers rustled to his left and Virgil felt Cavan lean against his side.

"They are simple fools," Cavan said softly, "for fearing what they don't understand. It is their own loss if they lose the bright star that you are. Your talents would be best suited elsewhere."

Virgil sucked in a sharp breath, leaning against Cavan's bulk.

"I don't have skills. I'm not even of age yet," Virgil whispered. "I'm just scared. I'm a fool like they are."

"Falsehood," Cavan hooted. "You are _wary_ of what you don't understand. You don't drive it away out of fear, or destroy it rather than try to learn. You are young still. You are quick and smart. You will learn and grow yet, child. I will see to it myself."

Virgil hummed doubtfully, laughter drifting from the festival. At least he wasn't alone. Virgil had Cavan and that was enough for him. Even if the other kids didn't want to talk to him, he'd always have Cavan. His familiar had promised, something dark and solemn in his eyes as he did. It was one of the few times Virgil remembered being safe.

Cavan raised a wing, trying his best to tuck it around Virgil's shoulders like he had when Virgil was smaller. The dark space had been a comfort when things got too loud, or too bright, or too scary. Virgil leaned carefully against Cavan, not wanting to put too much pressure on his owl in case he hurt the fragile bones under the thicker muscles. At least, Cavan said they were fragile.

Virgil pried his eyes open, staring at the trees that loomed tall and dark in front of them. The woods were a danger; people wandered into them and never returned. The sun set behind them, throwing even deeper shadows and Virgil shivered. He turned to bury his face in Cavan's chest only-

Movement at the edge of the treeline made him freeze. He wanted to think he imagined it, only Cavan stiffened next to him. The wing against his shoulders disappeared and Virgil shivered at the cold.

"Perhaps, we should return to the festivities," Cavan said softly, eyes almost seeming to glow. Virgil told himself that they didn't because it was easier to ignore than lose his one friend wondering why. He tried to nod only the movement in the wood grew closer, and Virgil froze once more. The shape of a man growing clear as he approached.

"Nothing good will come from those woods," Cavan warned. "There are dangers we don't know of. We should _return_ Virgil."

Virgil tried to take a deep breath. He needed to respond to his familiar, something in him screamed that he needed to at least speak if he couldn't move. Only the man's eyes turned to him and time seemed to stop. Blue, unnaturally so, drilled into his own eyes, and Virgil struggled to breath under the weight of them. The man smiled, a friendly gesture that did nothing to calm him down.

_If you wander off the fairies will get you._

Mother had warned him and he didn't listen and now he was going to die. The fairies were going to eat his flesh until there was nothing left to pick from his bones.

"Stay back," Cavan hissed, wings fluttering to place himself in front of Virgil. He took a shuddering breath. No, no; Cavan shouldn't die for him.

No one should die for him. Virgil's gut twisted as he stared at the grey feathers. Cavan had said they had been almost pitch black at one point but they weren't anymore. Virgil wanted to know why. Cavan couldn't die until he knew why.

"I'm not going to hurt the kiddo," the man said mildly. "I just want to know why he's here alone."

"He's not alone," Cavan snapped. "He has me. He doesn't need something like you."

Virgil's head tilted at the wording. Some _thing_. He shivered and glanced around for the man's familiar.

"Where's-" slipped out before he could stop it. His hand flew to his face, slapping over his mouth. The man looked even more amused. The muscles along Cavan's back tensed, his wings unfurling to their full length.

"Not another step," Cavan said.

The man ignored him.

"Where's what, kiddo?"

Virgil swallowed. Those blue eyes stared at him even more, bright and painful. He just wanted the man to go away. But at the same time, as scary as it was, having a smile directed at _him_ made his stomach squirm with warmth. Cavan tried, but he wasn't the softest familiar in the area.

"Where's your familiar?" he whispered. Cavan let out a distressed hoot, the sound lodging guilt into Virgil's chest. He reached out and smoothed down the feathers along Cavan's back, hoping to soothe his familiar. The man watched them, his smile never wavering.

"I don't have one," he said cheerfully, "Or to be more accurate, my soulmate doesn't have one. You humans, handing your soul off for someone else to take care of! It's hilariously delightful, oh! Golly. I do wonder what mine looks like."

Virgil stared at him. "Soul...mate?"

"Exactly that kiddo!" The man snapped his fingers. "You're a funny lot, not actively looking for yours! Then again, souls do deal more with death than life so! If you get to the _bones_ of it, it makes a lot of sense!" The man giggled and Virgil stared at him some more.

He was insane. Cavan had been right, they should have just left.

Cavan shuffled back and Virgil pressed his shoulders against the rough brick as the space he had shrunk. It was comforting, knowing that the man would have to go through Cavan. Virgil hated that he thought that way at all. He wanted Cavan to live, but he didn't want to die either. Virgil wondered if the man would chase him if he ran.

"Ooooh!" The man bounced on the balls of his heels. "You know what? I forgot introductions. Why, that's mighty rude of me, that is. May I have your name?"

Virgil opened his mouth. Cavan stepped on his foot, talons digging through the soft leather he wore until he yelped. His familiar glared at the man.

"No, no you may not."

For the first time, the man's eyes turned from Virgil to Cavan. Virgil sucked in breath, his whole body starting to tremble as the weight left him.

"Well, aren't you an interesting sight," the man said, his grin growing. " _Owl_ -d love to see what created something like you. You're not truly alive are you?" He giggled. "Oh that's _amazing_ , and do you speak for the kiddo? That would be a _hoot_."

Cavan twitched. Virgil blinked at his familiar. 'Not truly alive?' Of course Cavan was alive. Cavan was right there. He ate with Virgil and slept with Virgil and took to the skies to keep an eye out for bullies for Virgil. If he was dead, Virgil thought he might be too.

"The child speaks for himself," Cavan said, head tilting to the angle Virgil knew was him trying to figure out the best way to charge at the person in front of him. It had been a deterrent to bullies, knowing that an owl the size of a small child would attack them with beak and talons if they got too close. "He may name himself."  
  
Cavan's head tilted more, swiveling until Virgil could see his eyes. His feathers ruffled and Virgil resisted the urge to pull him close until they both calmed down. Virgil looked at him and then glanced at the man, swallowing hard.  
  
"You may call me..." Cavan prompted, and Virgil bit back the urge to snap at him. He knew how to introduce himself he wasn't that young.  
  
"You may call me Virgil," he said, voice sharp as he glared at Cavan. He blinked, anger fading at the horror that swirled through Cavan's eyes. He didn't understand and that scared him. He looked up at the man.  
  
Terror pressed down on Virgil as the smile on the man's face grew. It showed too many teeth, stretched too wide. Virgil thought he was simply a tongue lick away from looking like he wanted to devour Virgil. Virgil shivered, eyes widening. He pressed back against the brick wall, wishing that it would open up and swallow him whole. It would probably be less painful than whatever this man wanted to do.  
  
"Virgil," the man said, rolling the word around his mouth. A chill ran down Virgil's spine. Cavan hissed. The man's eyes brightened.

"I've always wanted to meet a Virgil!" The man crouched down and something in his eyes softened. Virgil relaxed, despite the fact that Cavan bristled even more. Maybe the man would leave them alone now?  
  
"You're going to be very important to me," the man whispered. "You're gonna see a lot of me for a human, kiddo!" Virgil blinked, wanting to protest but something in the man's eyes held him back. "Yes I dobily do believe we're going to be very close. And for that reason, you may call me Patton."  
  
Virgil finally gave in to the urge and reached out to pull Cavan close to himself. Cavan squawked, wings flailing for a moment, one of them almost hitting Virgil in the face before calming down. Cavan trembled in his arms, or at least Virgil thought so. His own shivers made it hard to tell.  
  
"He's not going to do _anything_ with you," Cavan snapped and Patton's eyes lost all of the softness that they had gained. Virgil's trembles increased. No matter what his eyes looked like, Patton's grin didn't budge and Virgil felt his eyes prickle in fear. He tried not to cry, gripping Cavan even tighter.  
  
"I think you will find, little familiar," Patton said, his voice soft and just the slightest bit flat. "You have no say in what I decide. _He_ will have no choice in what I decide. It is _my_ freedom to choose what to do with, and little **Virgil** here forfeited part of his. Didn't he?"  
  
Virgil gasped, hand reaching up to dig into the sudden dull pain that radiated from his chest. Cavan twisted away from his hold. Virgil whimpered at the loss, his other hand reaching up to grasp for his familiar. Cavan paused to run his beak through Virgil's hair before turning to glare at Patton.  
  
"You have no more power over him that that," Cavan argued, "His name is still his own. It is not yours to claim or to abuse."  
  
Patton's grin grew until Virgil was certain that his teeth weren't human. Sharp points caught the moonlight. The bonfire crackled behind them all. Tears leaked from Virgil's eyes and he gasped for breath, clutching at the pain in his chest even more.  
  
"You are correct," Patton said cheerily, and the pain vanished. Virgil coughed, curling in on himself as Patton giggled, "Oh you're going to be _fun_. But I don't think you quite understand what I have to gain from Virgil living. He is wonderful bait for my other half after all, I need him alive for that!"  
  
Patton reached out and Cavan snapped at the hand. Patton swatted at him, sending Cavan flying back against the wall. Virgil tried to gasp out his familiar's name, only to freeze as Patton's hand landed on his head. It was too light to be human, with little pinpricks Virgil would have sworn were claws at the end. His vision tunneled as Patton licked his lips, a slow deliberate motion that ran over the sharp edges of his teeth and made his lips shine.  
  
"You are far too precious to play with like that," Patton whispered. A few more tears slipped out of Virgil's eyes and he squeezed his eyes shut to block the sight of Patton's face. He wanted to go home. He wanted Mother. He wanted Cavan perched on the edge of his bed keeping him safe. He wanted anything other than this.  
  
Patton's voiced almost seemed to echo through the air. "Aren't you, _best friend_?"

* * *

Virgil’s hands scrapped on the tree bark as he hauled himself a little bit higher than before. The woods held the same musty scent that they always did after rainfall, but Virgil didn’t care. He winced as one of the smaller branches cracked under his foot, jolting him down half a step. His heart leapt to his throat and he held himself, foot swinging in the air until he felt like he could breathe.

He pulled carefully on the branch he wanted, holding his breath until he was certain that it would hold. Satisfied with it, he heaved himself up and over until he straddled it. Virgil leaned back, the trunk of the tree to his spine until he felt comfortable. The fear of falling kept him from relaxing completely, but the wind in his face was better that Mother’s yelling.

He had skipped the Fall of the Witch King festival again. Which would have been fine if she hadn’t caught him sneaking out towards the woods.

She had tried to yell at him about monsters and bandits and witches. Only her voice had caught on witches and her eyes had drifted to Cavan in that moment and Virgil had lost the ability to think. He knew that she thought he was going to become a witch. That she thought Cavan was going to teach him some sort of dark magic and lead him astray.

At this point, Virgil kinda wished he would.

It would be better than all the nagging about spending time with Patton. Virgil hated the strain that it put on his relationship with Cavan but-

But as creepy as Patton was, Patton listened. Patton cared. Patton never told him to act a certain way or feel a certain way. He never told Virgil what to do, only ruffled his hair and giggled at what he considered human silliness. Virgil loved the touch, even when he gruffly shoved the Fae’s hand away with a blush and grumbled under his breath.

Best friends indeed.

Cavan was still certain magic was involved.

Virgil let out a breath and plucked one of the leaves from the tree. He ripped it slowly to pieces feeling the soft plant flesh give way. It was stupid. He was stupid.

“‘You’re not stupid,’” he mimicked Cavan’s voice, raising it into a slightly higher tone. He didn’t want Cavan’s reason right now or Patton’s soft encouragements (or even worse, cheerful offers to murder everyone else in town). He wanted to wallow until he felt nothing but the overriding despair that was his life. “‘Merely prone to distortions in your pattern of thought. A little foolish of you, but we can talk through them until you have a clearer understanding.’”

Virgil swallowed heavily. He wished Cavan wouldn’t waste his time on someone like himself. Sure, Virgil wasn’t entirely sure if Cavan had a choice— which would make things a little creepy if Virgil thought about it too long— but either way Virgil didn’t deserve it. Cavan was smart and kind and strong, while Virgil was… Virgil.

He didn’t listen and he didn’t think. Virgil refused to stop spending time with Patton despite the fact that it would be smarter not to. He fought with people and then regretted it. He pushed everyone except a stubborn few (two) away. He was stupid and irrational and panicky and if what Patton said about soulmates was true, then he didn’t deserve the man that Cavan represented at all.  Not after ten years of the same boring life over and over again.

Virgil never wondered why Patton drifted away and then back again. Virgil would too if he could gather the courage, on the days when the small village felt like it was going to choke him alive. Patton always offered, but fear and Cavan held him back. It was only the words on Patton’s arm, “Excuse me, are you Virgil?” that promised his return.

Someone else might have thought it cruel, but Virgil appreciated the fact that there was a reassurance that Patton would _always_ return. If not for Virgil himself, then for Patton’s other half that would supposedly come looking for Virgil. Virgil didn’t care so long as he got a friend out of the deal. It wasn’t like he could expect anything better, and Patton was more than he could have ever imagined or dreamed up for himself.

Virgil flinched at the wings fluttering to his right. The branched swayed under Cavan’s weight and Virgil couldn’t help the way his finger tightened their hold. It’s not like it would help if the branch did break. A soft apology floated through the air and Virgil listened to the steady flap of his familiar’s wings as Cavan found a different branch to land on.

“I-” Cavan paused and Virgil finally cracked his eye open to look at him. Cavan shifted uncomfortably, and straightened a few feathers with his beak. The thought that Cavan was nervous because of Virgil almost made him grin, but he couldn’t quite muster up the positivity for it.

Cavan’s talons tapped against the branch before he finally spoke. “That is to say- It has come to my attention that I have upset you. I apologize. It was not my intention to make you unhappy.”

Virgil shrugged and looked away. “A lot of good that does,” he muttered under his breath.

Cavan sucked in a sharp breath, feathers puffing up in his indignation before slumping in defeat. His talons scraped against the wood.

“He’s dangerous,” Cavan finally said quietly. “He’s dangerous and powerful and he _scares_ me.” Virgil looked up sharply at the admission. Cavan stared out towards the town. “My purpose is to protect you, to guide you. And that’s all I’ve ever _wanted_ to do. You are- the most important person in my life Virgil, and I- I love you. Yet it feels as if all I can do is fail. Patton is not someone that I would trust with your well being.”

Virgil chewed on his lip, torn between the warmth that Cavan’s words brought and the instinctual defensive words that rose to his lips. He reached out with a trembling hand and ran his fingers through Cavan’s fingers. He hated fighting with him, but he hated when it felt like Cavan was trying to control him as well.

Cavan relaxed as Virgil’s fingers reached the soft downy part of his feathers and he trilled as Virgil stroked him gently.

“I think I get it,” Virgil said quietly. “But you can’t tell me who I can spend time with. I like Patton. I _know_ he’s not safe, but it’s gotten to be better than being alone in town all the time. I- I like that he cares about me. He’s not _that_ bad. Maybe, maybe just back off a bit? I’ll keep your concerns in mind.”

Cavan stared at him for a long moment before whispering, “Alright. I hope you’re correct.”

Virgil gave him a tremulous smile. “Me, too. Me, too.”

Cavan snapped at his fingers gently, and ruffled his feathers. Virgil grinned as his familiar drew himself up to his whole not inconsiderable height. “Well, alright then. Now that we have settled that miscommunication, I believe it would behoove us to return to the festival at least for a moment. Your mother was looking most upset.”

Virgil sighed and nodded his agreement. He slid down the trunk of the tree carefully before holding an arm up. Cavan, hesitated, as he always would before landing on the offered arm. Virgil flinched as the weight registered, talons carefully not pricking his skin as they tried to find purchase against his shirt.

“See?” Virgil tossed out with a grin, “I’m not a child anymore, Cav. I can carry you which _also_ means that you owe me a story.”

“Yes, I seems that I do,” Cavan said, something wistful and distant in his voice. Virgil blinked as he walked towards the town and the square where everyone was gathered. “Perhaps… It has been a while since I shared _that_ one.”

“Cav?” Virgil asked, and Cavan shook his head as the sounds of the festival drifted closer to them.

“Later child,” Cavan said, playfully nipping at his ears. “Eat. Talk with your mother. Tonight before bed I’ll tell you a bedtime story.”

Virgil yelped in offence and Cavan chuckled before taking to the air. Virgil felt his shoulders tense up as he entered the square despite the fact that he knew Cavan was simply circling overhead. They had learned over the past decade that the villagers would be a shade more relaxed if Cavan wasn’t in sight. Virgil hated it.

He skirted around the crowd, heading towards the tables laid out with food. He wanted to snag an apple or two and maybe a slice of meat for Cavan before slipping away once more. Virgil winced at the loud voices and the way that the music echoed through the square. If he was _really_ lucky, he could avoid talking to Mother without Cavan noticing; though that felt like more of a distant hope than actual reality.

Virgil grabbed a cloth and started to bundle up the nearest food he could reach when a familiar voice greeted him.

“Kiddo!”

Dread raced down his spine as he whirled on his heels to meet Patton’s eyes. Patton grinned at him, wiggling his fingers in greeting before taking another drink from the cup in his hand. Virgil’s heart rate kicked up another notch as he leaned forward to hiss in Patton’s ear.

“What are you doing here? You’re going to get caught!”

Patton’s brow furrowed in confusion. He tapped a finger against the wooden cup and Virgil’s eyes flickered to it. Milk, of course. It seemed like Patton wouldn’t drink anything other than that. Patton frowned, and Virgil sighed.

“But it’s all for me?” Patton asked. “They _are_ giving offerings to me and my people after all. They picked some choice fruit, they’re all _berry_ good! It’s not quite enough for me to spare them if you want me to kill them, but I’ll make it a little less painful at least!”

Virgil swore mentally. Of course Patton would take the time to show up to the yearly Fairy Dance.

“They don’t actually believe in you, Pat,” Virgil whispered. Another villager passed them, and the hair on Virgil’s neck stood on air as they stared. Patton waved cheerfully at them, a contrast to Virgil’s dark glare. They hurried on, and Virgil reached up to pluck some of the paper decorations that were falling everywhere from Patton’s hair. “They don’t actually want outsiders to show up.”

Patton’s eyes took on that hard light that never failed to make a shiver run down Virgil’s spine. Cavan’s words from earlier echoed in his ear. He wondered if his familiar was watching even now.

“Not really kiddo,” Patton said lightly. Dangerously. Virgil watched him take another sip of his milk. “It’s more like… they don’t _want_ to believe. So they throw a _bush_ every year and hope that if they appease us enough, we’ll wander away to the point they can forget us entirely. Of course–” Virgil’s heart raced at Patton’s tone– “you know better than that, don’t you Virge?”

Virgil swallowed thickly, trying to wet his throat enough to speak. His heartbeat roared until he nodded and Patton’s gaze softened. Patton turned away to wave at another villager. Virgil let out a deep breath, fighting the urge to press a hand against his chest. The leftover panic ached, and Virgil closed his eyes for a moment to center himself.

Patton wouldn’t hurt him. Patton needed him alive.

Virgil gripped the food in his hands tighter, trying not to squish the berries and other fruit too hard. He’d eaten bruised fruit before but this was the one time of year the food was meticulously kept the best it could be for the offerings. Virgil wondered now why he had never thought about the fact that the huge feast was always gone by the end of the night.

“Very good, kiddo!” Patton praised and Virgil’s lips twitched upwards. Creepy as he was, Virgil knew that he was adapting to it. Maybe if he had enough time Patton would seem normal to him. He didn’t know if it was a good or a bad thing, but it was better than being alone. “You’re a smart cookie so I knew you’d understand!”

“Thanks Pat,” Virgil said. “But really, I was going to duck out anyways; if you want to join me-”

Scream broke out along the other end of the square and Virgil froze. He whirled on his heels, eyes locking on to the armoured men that lined the street entrance. He spun around again, heart racing as he took stock of their numbers and realized that they had blocked all the exits. His fingers tingled.

Cavan, he needed to find Cavan.

“You might want to hide, Virge!” Patton suggested cheerily as if the screams were just another set of the music. Virgil bit back a whimper but didn’t move. He needed Cavan first. He had to make sure that his familiar was safe before trying to escape. His eyes darted wildly around the square.

Blood splashed against the packed dirt out of the corner of his eye and Virgil winced.

“Virgil!” Cavan screamed above him. “Go! I’ll be fine!”

 _Not without you_. The words caught in his throat. An arrow streaked through the sky and Virgil bit down on a scream. Cavan wheeled through the sky to avoid it. Virgil swiped at his face and dove for the nearest table. As long as Cavan was worried about him, he’d stick around. Which meant that if Virgil was safe, Cavan could flee for his own safety.

His elbows scraped against the ground. Virgil winced but dragged himself under the cloth hanging from the wood. He pressed a hand to his mouth to stifle his sobs as the smell of blood cloyed the air. The screams died out gradually and Virgil didn’t think that it was a good thing. Something warm and sticky crept to his hiding spot and Virgil fought not to gag.

“We are looking,” a voice carried through the silent square, “for the Witch King’s soulmate. We know without a doubt he is among you. Bring him forward and there is a chance _some_ of you may live.”

Virgil’s hand turned white against his face as he tried to keep himself quiet. The space under the table grew too hot but Virgil couldn’t bring himself to move, despite how badly he was trembling. His chest ached from trying to keep his sobs and breathing quiet. The utter silence dug into his skin, and finally Virgil forced himself to wriggle a little bit farther forward to glance under the table cloth and check out the situation.

The squish of his clothing against the blood on the ground made bile rise in this throat.

Virgil lifted the tablecloth carefully, trying not to move it too much and draw attention to himself. He bit down on his hand to fight back a scream. The lifeless eyes of his neighbor stared back at him, blood still trickling from their slit throat. Virgil desperately wanted to curl up in a corner and never move ever again. Maybe death would be a mercy in this case. Gods above, he felt terrified.

His eyes skittered past the dead bodies. He froze at the sight of Patton, perched on a dead body of one of the soldiers. Patton took a long drink from his cup, nose wrinkling at whatever had changed about the milk. He watched as Patton sighed, and Virgil wanted to reach out for him and beg for help. But moving in Patton’s direction would be suicide with the other soldiers standing warily around him.

Movement from the left caught his eye, and Virgil sucked in a sharp breath as the man standing at the head of the soldiers moved forward through the crowd. His voice echoed through the square again, robes flowing with every step he took. Virgil wanted to know how he was able to ignore the way that the blood stained the edges of his robes.

He bent down and hauled someone up from the huddled crowd still alive in the center of the square. The woman he dragged away by her hair screamed, kicking and twisting in his hold. Virgil’s breath stopped. Mother’s heels left small furrows in the ground as she fought to fear herself.

“Maybe we’ll start with this one,” the man said, his voice too even for the slaughter that he had caused. “Tell me where he is, and go free.”

“Burn in the lowest pit of hell,” Mother spat out, fingers scrambling at the hold the man had on her. “The ungrateful brat has probably already fled for his life.”

Virgil’s fingers dug into the dirt. Mother wasn’t the best, but she had loved him. The lump in his throat grew. He should stay hidden like Patton had suggested; like Cavan had ordered. They needed him alive much more than Mother ever cared for him.

But watching the whites in her eyes narrow in on the knife that rose to her throat, Virgil found himself rising shakily to his feet.

He thought he heard a broken cry from Cavan above them all, and a soft “oh kiddo, better luck next time,” from Patton before the Fae downed more of his drink. The man holding Mother locked on to him, and the smile that curled over his lips reminded Virgil of some of Patton’s milder smiles. Everything felt numb and distant. It didn’t scare him, the smile, not compared to Patton but the flutter of Cavan’s wings did.

“Ah, how nice of you to join us, Virgil,” the man said, and ice crept down Virgil’s spine. How did the man know his name? Mother whimpered as the knife bit into her neck just enough for blood to trail down her neck. “I would just like you to know- to remember- that everything that happens today isn’t your fault.” His grin grew and Virgil took a shaky step back. “It’s _Logan’s._ ”

Virgil screamed as the knife slide smoothly through his mother’s neck. His legs gave way beneath him; only rough hands grabbed him before he could hit the ground. Screams rose on the air again as the slaughter continued. Virgil kicked frantically, lashing out with nails and feet as they dragged him towards the man covered in Mother’s blood.

A cry from above startled him, and his head twisted looking for the source.

“Cavan no!” he screamed as his familiar descended wings out and talons bared. The man laughed. His hands rose and the air seemed to ripple around him. Cavan slammed against the ripple, talons screeching against whatever it was. Virgil thrashed harder. He couldn’t let Cavan get killed as well.

“You just sit back and watch,” the man said, flicking his fingers again and sending Cavan tumbling to the ground. His eyes turned back to Virgil with frightening intensity. “I need a witness to tell His Majesty after all, that his loyal friend Labrhas still lives.”

Virgil tried to dig his heels into the ground as the soldiers dragged him even closer to the man. His eyes locked onto Cavan’s limp form, the way his familiar twitched against the ground. Lying still next to his dead mother. Virgil sobbed. He didn’t want to die.

The knife rose.

“Please,” the man said simply. “Give Logan my regards.”

Virgil’s mouth gaped open as the knife dug into his stomach and _pulled_. His world erupted into pain. He doubled over the pain as the soldiers dropped him. Everything except the pain and Cavan’s scream swept away in the riptide. He fell to the ground with a painful thump.

His fingers pressed against the wound, a futile attempt to stop the blood that flowed between them. He gasped, trying to breath through the fire in his body. Feathers fluttered and Virgil wanted to cry. He wanted Cavan’s soothing voice and gentle nuzzles.

Long fingers, familiar and comforting ran through his hair. He sobbed as he was shifted, more pain radiating along his stomach. He cracked his eyes open to meet Patton’s grin.

“What are you doing?!” Cavan screeched, out of his vision. Virgil blinked as Patton’s shoulder twitched to the side. He wondered why Patton’s eyes flickered to the side in annoyance, but he was still smiling. Patton was always smiling. It meant things were fine. Were things fine? Where was Cavan?

Virgil wished he’d get to see his familiar one last time. He wanted to apologize for so much. He should have been better. He was sorry for dying so soon. Virgil couldn’t stop his fingers twitching at the sound of Cavan’s voice, at how it cracked along the edges and reached a high whine that Virgil had never heard before.

“Don’t just- He thought you _cared_!  _Help him!_ ”

Patton chuckled and the vibrations sent another wave of pain through Virgil. Black inched along his vision.

“It’s alright! He’ll be _beak_ in a jiffy! Death is just part of a cycle for you humans after all.” Fingers comb through his hair even more and Virgil felt himself relax despite himself. His heartbeat roared in his ears and something about Patton’s words felt off but he couldn’t figure out why.

“Please Patton,” Cavan’s voice sounded farther and farther away. The anger and desperation in his tone, the way it trailed off into quiet horror clawed at Virgil’s anxiety. He hasn’t meant to upset his familiar. Virgil wished he wouldn’t leave. Cavan was going to tell him a story tonight. “You can do something about this. _Please_. It’s- it’s more feasible not to wait.”

“I’ll make it up to him in the next life! Kiddos like fuzzy things right?” Virgil wondered muzzily who Patton was making things up to. He wanted to nuzzle into his best friend’s hand and fall asleep. Patton was safe. Patton loved him. Virgil’s eyes slipped shut as Cavan shouted something back. He wished they wouldn’t fight so much.

The world slipped away from his fingers and Virgil fell into the darkness.

* * *

Logan leaned back against the wall of the home they had been staying in. He kept his eyes closed even as Roman bustled about around him. Distantly, Logan wondered if he was working on dinner with Jarl. The reminder of the familiar made him clench and loosen his fingers.

He could still feel the warm sticky blood as Dante bled out in his arms. Logan had thought he had been blessed when he had woken up to the small squirming bundle of a newborn ferret next to him. Dante returned. Logan had taken care of him, befriended him, and tried not to let Dante’s lack of memories get to him. Only to have his familiar slip through his fingers like sand once more.

Logan barely had time to watch him grow up, let alone start to look for Virgil. He had barely hit his maturity.

Maybe Logan had been cursed.

He reached up to finger the amulet around his neck. He wondered what it was like, being able to return to the cycle that Jarl claimed they all went through. Logan was more open to believing him now that he had seen Dante reborn, but at the same time a part of him rejected what the snake said out of petty distrust; Dante returning didn’t make the times he was gone any less painful.

Then again, there was no way of know what exactly would happen to him now. He had changed his very soul. Perhaps he wouldn’t return to the cycle and cause Virgil and Dante even more damage by tearing himself- tearing the very _possibility_ of him- from their lives.

Logan’s finger ghosted ( _shut up Jarl that wasn’t a joke_ ) over the runes etched into it. It would be simple to charge his fingers with magic and watch the whole thing catch flame. Flames like the first ones that had taken Dante from him. Logan let out a shuddering breath and curled into a tighter ball. He wished he couldn’t feel a thing.

“Alright Specs,” Roman said gently. Logan heard him set a plate down next to his side. Logan squeezed his eyes ever tighter shut. He knew he was being irrational, illogical, hysterical. Roman would be devastated if anything happened to him. He was being unfair to Roman. Logan tried to take a deep breath and found that the action shuddered in his chest. He let out a low whine.

“Oh Logan,” Roman whispered and Logan flinched as warm hands gripped his knees. Warm; not the cold that penetrated down to Logan’s bones. Not the death that had wrapped around him and refused to let him go, leaving him lacking and stilted compared to the rest of the world. Logan wondered if it would have been better if he fell with his kingdom. “Come on Lo’. It’ll get better, I promise. We’ll find him next time. We’ll keep them both safe.”

Roman’s hands tugged him forward and Logan followed, not willing to put in the effort to resist him. He buried his head in Roman’s shoulder, feeling the course wool against his face and Roman’s rough hands running along his shoulders. He hesitated for a long moment, simply breathing shallowly along Roman’s neck before his hands came up, shaking the entire way to dig into Roman’s back.

“That’s it,” Roman soothed, pulling Logan even closer to himself. “You’re going to be alright Lo’, just keep breathing. Just keep fighting. I know you can make it.”

Logan wanted to shake his head. On a better day he might have opened his mouth to argue, but at the moment it sounded like too much effort. Roman tapped his shoulder gently, and shifted in Logan’s bone bending hug. Not that human limits meant anything to them any more.

“Now come on,” Roman nudged his shoulder. Logan gripped him tighter. He could picture Roman rolling his eyes as he nudged again. “Come on, Lo’. You’re the one always lecturing me about eating and sleeping. It’ll make you feel better, you hypocrite.”

“Technically speaking,” Logan muttered into his shoulder. He could feel the tension that drained from Roman’s frame at his words and wondered how long he had sat in the corner zoning out. Roman needed to learn to worry less. “We don’t need to eat or sleep at all. Our bodies are sustained by magic and the rest of it is a turn over habit of having originally been human-”

“Blah blah blah,” Roman mocked. “I’m not hearing a no, which means you have to eat the most amazing meal ever cooked. Made by me, of course.”

“You have nothing on my old cooks,” Logan said, voice still quiet and flat. He did however, finally let go of Roman so that his friend could pull back and present him with the plate of food. Rabbit meat garnished with what looked like burnt bread stared back at him and Logan blinked.

“Truly,” he said dryly. “A masterpiece of cuisine.”

“Oh shut up and eat,” Roman snapped, shoving the plate into his arms. Logan didn’t smile but he did feel a little lighter from Roman’s concern. He picked at the food as Roman stood up. “I’d say don’t move but since you haven’t in the past four days I think I’m safe to grab my own food without you disappearing on me.”

Logan shrugged, setting a piece of the meat on top of the burnt bread. He looked up as Roman turned back towards the fire.

“Hey Jarl, you want the bones?” Roman called. Silence. Logan blinked. Jarl never hesitated when Roman called. It was one of his few redeeming features, the absolute possessive loyalty that the cobra pushed. “Jarl?” Roman called again, sound lost at the lack of response. “Buddy, chum, partner and mate?”

Roman strode towards the fire. Logan set his plate down and stood on shaky legs to follow after him. Roman’s shoulders tensed as he circles the pit and found no trace of his familiar.

“Haha,” Roman yelled, voice flat but hands shaking as they came up to cup his mouth and carry his shout farther. “Very funny Jarl, I’m so amused. It’s time to come out and eat now. You’re stealth skills have improved and you have caught me by surprise, but it’s time to be done now!”

“Roman,” Logan whispered, voice rough. He reached out but Roman shook off his hand. Logan bit back a pang hurt as he was brushed off. It was fine, they were fine. “I don’t think he’s hiding.”

“I didn’t scream,” Roman snapped, whirling on him. “He’s not _dead_.”

“There are other options-”

“Shut your goddamn mouth,” Roman snarled and Logan flinched back. For a heartbeat he could have sworn that Roman’s human form flickered, leaving the imprint of a gnarled form with elongated teeth on the back of Logan’s eyelids. Roman turned away from him and strode towards the only other room in the house. “He wouldn’t leave me. He _wouldn’t_. He’s done things like this before. It’s just game, you’ll see.”

Logan closed his eyes, hoping that Roman was correct. For Roman’s sake if nothing else. Logan’s hand drifted to the empty spot on his shoulder before hurrying after Roman. No one deserved the ache of missing their other half.

Roman slammed the door open and his shoulders dropped immediately.

“Jarl! There you are! Ha! I win this round….” Roma trailed off.

Logan pushed past him gently to catch sight of the familiar. Jarl sat on the floor, neck extended and swaying back and forth as he stared at a corner of the room.  His form flickered, blinking out of existence and then back again. Logan itched to reach out and feel if he was truly gone in those moments or if it was an invisibility spell or- or-

His head snapped to Roman’s pale face. Roman drifted past him and kneeled next to Jarl, reaching out. Only in the silence did Logan realize that sounds were leaving Jarl’s mouth, garbled every time that he flickered. Roman’s hand drifted through Jarl’s form and Logan looked away so he wouldn’t have to see the devastating grief that he knew would cross Roman’s face.

“...I understand…” Jarl’s voice echoed, “...fun....I want…. Like him… as you wish… As you command, master. I’m coming.”

“Jarl?” Roman whispered, hands grasping at the air where his familiar was. Logan reached out with his magic on desperate instinct, wanting to keep Roman from the grief that plagued his own steps. The emptiness that came from walking a world where everyone had a companion except for him.

It rebounded. Logan gasped, fighting not to drop to his knees as the pain slammed against his chest. He struggled to glance up at Roman’s wordless cry, watching as Jarl slithered forward, flickered once more and-

Vanished.

* * *

“You know,” Patton hummed, and Virgil looked up from his laptop. “Today would be the nine hundredth year of the Witch King’s festival if humans still celebrated that.”

Virgil blinked at him, sluggish from his all nighter getting his psychology project done. It took him a moment to process what Patton was trying to say, before he shook his head. “The what Pat?”

Patton hummed, kicking his feet back and forth against the counter. “Oh golly, I forgot, you don’t remember that. Pay me no mind. Do you want some coffee instead?”

“No.” Virgil sighed as Cavan growled the word out from his perch in the corner. One of these days he was going to lock them both in a closet until he understood their relationship. Cavan seemed fine as long as Patton simply _talked_ to Virgil, but the moment a question was thrown into the mix he bristled like a guard dog.

Virgil paused long enough to try and picture how Cavan would react if he called him a guard dog out loud. Not well. Virgil was going to save that for a rainy day, or a moment when he needed to draw a laugh from Patton.

“I can get it Pat,” he said, standing up with a groan. He bit down on the instinctive gratitude that sprung to his lips. Patton and Cavan both were strange about things like that, and Virgil was fine with just going along with it.

Seeing as Patton had followed him home because Virgil had fed him a cream filled donut, he could believe that saying thanks would cause problems in some form. Patton feeling like he owed Virgil for something as simple as that screamed that there was much, much more Virgil needed to keep an eye out for.

Cavan had preened with pride when he had brought home books covering different myths concerning the Fair Folk.

Virgil did miss salt though.

“You got it kiddo!” Patton agreed cheerfully. “Say, did you have plans for tonight? More homework to do? Bullies that you run into?”

Virgil paused. The last question had quickly become a balancing act. _Lying_ to Patton was the worst thing Virgil could do, but simply agreeing that he had bullies usually ended up with the police looking for another missing student. Virgil really didn’t want his classes canceled again. He had enough make up work to plow through this week.

“I think I’m handling them alright, all things considering,” Virgil said after a moment. Not a lie, Virgil could think whatever he want, and for someone with anxiety he was handling them fairly well. It was better than letting the local Fae deal with them at least. Virgil firmly reminded himself of that.

“He punched the last one out,” Cavan said, and Virgil let his head hit the counter. The pride in his familiar’s tone was ridiculous. Edward hadn’t even been bothering as bad as usual, but Virgil had felt like he was falling over the edge of a panic attack and administration had said that they’d have to ban Cavan if he caused _another_ injury to a student.

So Virgil had lashed out, and ran off with Cavan before Edward had even hit the ground.

Patton clapped his hands together. “Awwwww I’m so proud of you kiddo! Do I need to show you how to get blood out of your clothes? Wait no, I can use magic for that!”

“No,” Virgil’s voice echoed with Cavan’s and Virgil felt his lips twitch upward into a grin. College sucked ass (and not literally, god damn Virgil needed to find a boyfriend) but as long as he had these two he thought he’d survive it. Maybe not in one piece, but still.

“But you were saying Pat?” Virgil asked, reaching up to dig through his cupboards. Damn, he thought he had washed his mugs. When was the last time he had slept? “I am free to night b-t-dubs.”

Cavan groaned, “Please, use real english.”

“Slang is just English evolving,” Virgil shot back. Patton giggled in the corner. Virgil rolled his eyes as Cavan muttered something about honor and pride and in ‘his day.’ It wasn’t like Cavan was much older than him. Technically, he was as old as Virgil; though the one time he had whined to Pat about it, Patton had laughed until he threw up.

Virgil wasn’t sure what to do with that honestly.

“But!” Patton said from his corner of the counter, his feet stopping their steady thump against the wood? Plexiglass? Plastic? Whatever, Virgil didn’t care. “I found a suuuuper cool magic lake in the middle of the woods! It glows at night! I wanted to explore it with you!”

Virgil paused, staring down at the mug he had finally located in the sink. “Does it have mermaids?”

Patton pouted. “No. No water adventures.”

“If that’s what you want to call almost drowning, then sure we can phrase it that way,” Virgil said dryly. “Kelpies?”

“Nope.” Patton sounded even more downtrodden about that one. Just because _he_ could ride the fucking water horse without getting stuck, didn’t mean Virgil could. Maybe Virgil should stop going to mysterious bodies of water with Patton, they had too many close calls in the past couple of years.

“Bunyip? Sirens? Angry dryads who want to kill us for trespassing?” Cavan listed off and Virgil pointed at him in solidarity. Cavan had better memories for those things. Virgil suspected it was because he wasn’t the one getting knocked around, almost torn apart, or dragged unsuspectingly into bogs, rivers, and on one memorable occasion, a bucket in the janitors closet.

Cavan had laughed when Virgil claimed the building had been haunted but Virgil had been _right_. So there.

“The dryads were only once!” Patton whined. He flapped his hands in the air, almost knocking down one of their lamps. “Besides! They apologized and got us those pretty flowers!”

“Flowers that those vampires wanted,” Cavan muttered, shifting on his perch. He lifted a wing up to preen. Virgil made a triumphant noise in the back of his throat as he dug out the instant coffee. His will to live, finally.

Patton pouted even more. “Yeah but-”

Cavan froze, flapping his wings at Patton. Patton trailed off, and Virgil glanced between the two, his heart rate spiking. Patton’s eyes sharpened and turned towards the door with a hungry gaze. His lips pulled into the smile that Virgil had quietly labeled his baby-eating smile, and licked his lips.

What. The. Hell.

“You’re certain?” Patton asked, and Cavan nodded.

“I’m not,” Virgil muttered, he set his mug down and glanced between the two. “Should- should I be trying to hide under a table again?”

“It didn’t work the first time,” Patton brushed off and Virgil blinked at the way Cavan flinched. Patton didn’t look away from the door, sliding off the counter with inhuman gracefulness. He stalked- full on stalked, Virgil debated hiding under the table despite Virgil’s words- and whispered, “Besides, you’re going to want to be here for this one Kiddo.”

“I really don’t at the moment,” Virgil growled, hand coming up to tug at his hair. Fuck, he hated when Patton got all _vague_. Fucking Fae and their fucking riddles.

“No,” Cavan said softly, and Virgil startled. He turned to face his familiar who fluttered over to the counter and nuzzled at his neck. “Patton is correct. For once. You’re going to want this.”

“Want what?” Virgil snapped, “At least tell me-”

“I can’t,” Cavan said shortly. “Virgil, believe me if I had the ability, you would have known of _this_ long ago. But it is literally out of my control. Just… trust me?”

Virgil stared at Cavan for a long moment. He reached out to run his fingers through the dusty grey feathers, and let the familiar motion soothe him. Patton was a danger. A friendly, loving _danger_ ; no matter how much Virgil cared about him. Cavan was the one he could trust. Cavan pulled him from lakes and fires and claws and whatever trouble Patton had dragged him into.

“Aright,” Virgil said softly, leaning forward to bury his face in Cavan’s feathers. “Alright.”

A knock came from the door. Virgil stiffened. Patton pulled it open.

“Excuse me,” the voice said. Pretentious, Virgil almost giggled at the way the person's voice carried. “Are you Virgil?”

“No,” Patton purred, _fucking purred_. Virgil needed brain bleach for that sound. “But _you_ are Roman, and I believe that you have something of mine.”

Virgil turned his head to watch Patton yank the poor person into their apartment. God, he hoped that he wouldn’t need to scrub blood off the hardwood again. Shit got expensive.

The man yelped, arms flailing wildly as he fought for balance. The sash over his shoulders shifted, and Virgil realized with a start that it was the man’s familiar.

“Master,” the snake hissed, and swayed its head back and forth like a pleased puppy would its tail, “I brought him for you.”

“Wait _this_ is Patton?! God _damn_ it, Jarl, I would have worn better if I had known-!”

Virgil snapped his head away as Patton yanked the man down to mash their mouths together and _fuck._ Time to flee. Mayday, mayday.

Virgil scooped Cavan up as best he could and made for the door. If this was the soulmate that Patton went on about, Virgil did _not_ want to be there when several centuries of sexual tension were finally realized.

Virgil slammed the door behind him and knowing how loud Patton could get hurried down the hall. He didn’t question when Cavan directed him left towards the door. He scrubbed at his face with his free hand, wanting to wipe the image from his brain. Patton with romance was something he had never pictured, and frankly now he never wanted to.

(Three seconds Patton, you could have waited _three seconds_.)

Virgil muttered curses under his breath and paused at Cavan’s silence. He was never quiet, not when it came to Patton at least. Virgil froze in his tracks, only feet from the entrance of the apartment complex.

“Cav?” he asked quietly.

Cavan shook his head, which only made Virgil’s worry grow. He reached up to stroke Cavan’s wings and said bluntly, “You worrying makes me worry.”

“I’m not worried,” Cavan said shortly, talons tightening and loosening on Virgil’s arm. Thank god for braces.

“Pat would have your wings for that lie,” Virgil shot back. Cavan had said that he would want this, that he would want to see this, so why-

Cavan hooted at him, gesturing towards the man entering the building. His focus was directed downward, glaring at his phone.

“Oh eight lifetimes, Roman, you were supposed to _text_ me at the very least. You know that Dante can’t get a more certain feeling than ‘we’re close’-”

“Logan,” Virgil whispered. He winced at the word, name, whatever it was and the way the man’s head snapped up at the sound. Virgil didn’t know _how_ he knew it, but it _felt_ right. It sat in his mouth and curled around his tongue like hot cocoa on a cold day.

“Virgil,” Logan breathed.

“Virgil!” Something from Logan’s shoulder chirped. “See, I said we’d find him!”

Virgil stared at the ferret that wound around Logan’s neck before skittering towards the ground. Cavan took flight and Virgil blinked as the familiars approached each other. Cavan lifted a wing so that the ferret could more easily nose at his chest. There was….something. Everything about this felt _right_ , despite the fact that he had no idea what _this_ was.

“Virgil,” Logan breathed again, reaching out to cup his cheek in one hand. Logan’s eyes flickered across Virgil’s face, looking for something before crumpling. Virgil reached out as Logan’s legs gave way beneath him and they sunk to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” Logan sobbed. Virgil’s hands hovered over him as the man seemed to collapse in on himself, before finally settling on pulling Logan to his chest. He could feel the trembling and wondered what the fuck had happened. “I’m sorry, I’m _sorry._ ”

“It’s alright,” Virgil said, trying to get his voice to come out as a soothing croon rather than a hoarse whisper. “It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

Virgil closed his eyes as he held Logan even tighter. He didn’t know what was wrong, who this was, or what was going on. But he was willing to wait. Something told him to wait. So Virgil curled up with Logan on the floor of the lobby, running his hands over Logan’s shaking shoulders.

And waited.


End file.
